PITY THE POOR.

I pity the poor for I myself am poor,

Though I wear starched cuffs and collars;

But the brainless poor in rags I pity far more,

For they’ve neither sense nor dollars.

I pity as much the hare-brained spendthrift wretch

With a wealth of only money;

The “sassiety” dude likewise whose droning speech

Smacks only of bumble-bee honey.

I pity all those at whom Poverty throws her dart

As they joust thro’ the world with each other;

But I pity the most of all the bankrupt heart

With no love for a human brother.

LIFE’S LOST SKIFF.
WRITTEN ON LAKE MICHIGAN.

Prelude.

Green as emerald is Michigan;

And the waves,

Like ghosts from hungry graves,

Are tossing up my infant boat amain,

And kissing wild

The orphan ocean-child,

The rarest that has ever been,

The fairest that was ever seen.

Morning.

Up drives the great red sun aslant,

The sea-gulls flap, and scream, and fly;

A score of sails the sun’s rays paint

Upon the burning western sky.

Noon.

How silently and slow they steer!

Are the waves as wild out there the day,

And do the ships careen and veer

As she that drives so fast away?

Night.

Dim shadows haunt the eastern steep,

The sun creeps up the glooming tower;

The sea-birds scream in winged sleep,

The ghostly billows wail the hour!

Finale.

Green as emerald is Michigan;

And the waves,

Like ghosts in yawning graves,

Are tossing o’er my infant boat again,

Embracing wild

The orphan ocean-child,

The rarest that has ever been,

The fairest that was ever seen!

A CLOSE ATTACHMENT.
STRANGE STORY OF AMOS QUITO.

I have swept the airy heavens,

I have skimmed the rivers o’er;

I have slept upon the cloud-wing,

I have entered heaven’s door.

But in my peregrinations

Thro’ this world of ups and downs,

None have loved and none have sought me,

None have offered aught but frowns.

I have drunk the sweetest rain-drop

On its heaven-mission sent;

I have danced upon the rainbow

Where its colors fairest blent.

I have laughed and skipped and frolicked,

I have hummed my sweetest songs;

But I’ve never found the attachment

That I think to me belongs.

Ah, the world’s appreciation

Of my endless wealth and worth

Is a desiccated desert,

Is a sterile, arid dearth!

I’m the fairest of my fellows,

And the most affectionate;

Hence the world’s indifference to me

On my mighty soul doth grate.

I have kissed the blushing maiden,

I have lullabied to babies;

I have feasted on the features

Of a million lords and ladies.

’Tis the lover’s same old story—

Disappointment everywhere!

None have loved—except to hate me,

None have hated—save to spare!

Now at length my weary pinions,

Out of reach of mortal kind,

Rest from all men’s scorns and buffets,

And their first attachment find,

And I cannot choose but stay here

Where I’ll always stay to hum,

For I’ve reached life’s golden acme,—

I am stuck on chewing gum!

I am sleepy now, and happy,

Let profane hands not disturb;

Let none mar my wildest dreamings,

Nor ecstatic tumblings curb.

Since ’twas not in life permitted

That his blood I s-i-p,

May mankind write:

AMOS QUITO!
LET HIM EVER
R.-I.-P.